I guess I maybe had a couple expectations
When a spring dance is announced for campus everyone collectively agrees that Gojo will be crowned King of the Night. So why are rumors going around that you’ll be queen? And why is everyone convinced that you and Gojo are going together?
In which Gojo ropes you into being his fake dance date without your permission and then promptly falls in love
4- I guess I thought that prom was gonna be fun
Gojo watches your form disappear into the building, agony building in his chest.
He was going to have to ask Shoko how to talk to women.
He was not going to ask Shoko how to talk to women. He’d never live that down.
It wasn’t his fault. He reasoned with himself the entire ride home. He only made up that you had asked him to the dance because he wanted everyone to leave him alone, and your little crush on him was cute. He wasn’t into you, not then anyway, but he enjoyed your presence far more than he had any of his previous girlfriends. He only invited you out to go dress shopping because Geto bet you would reject him. Geto was so confident that your disdain for Gojo would outweigh whatever puppy crush you had. And Gojo, he just had to prove him wrong.
So he took you shopping, he enjoyed your company more than he’d like to admit. You had this look about you, this knowing glance that you’d give him, like you could read his mind. So he thought he’d have fun with you, just for a little bit. But meeting his mother. Meeting his mother was a mistake. You weren’t supposed to see him so vulnerable, so weak. You weren’t supposed to defend him, so fearlessly, so recklessly. And your hand, it wasn’t supposed to be so warm in his own.
Okay, so what, he reasoned. He developed a small crush on you. So he did what he always did when he was interested in someone. He followed you around wooing you. A fool proof plan really, get into a relationship with you, get dumped (eventually like he always does), and forget you ever existed. It was a fool proof plan, until he realized how much he actually liked you. And oh, there was so much to like about you. The way you gave him pointed glares, the way you’d scrunch your nose and squint your eyes, the cherry red blush on your cheeks. He loved how you smelled, like jasmine and marigold, and the way you challenged him at every opportunity. So he panicked. He didn’t know what to do, how to court you properly and so he panicked. Very uncharacteristic of him, but he panicked and bought you gifts. Girls like getting gifts, didn’t they? Sure he may have gone a bit overboard, but he was Gojo fucking Satoru, and who was he if not a bit much.
Still. It seemed like you didn’t quite enjoy the gifts as much as he imagined. Instead you seemed rather flustered and off put, which was dreadfully endearing in its own way. But you didn’t immediately jump into his arms and kiss him like he had thought. Besides it didn’t matter anyway, you were going with him to the banquet. He’d have plenty of time there to show you what a good boyfriend he could be. That’s where it all went awry. Apparently, being a good boyfriend was a lot harder than being a good fuck. He just wanted to kiss you, to be near you, but you were so defensive, and the bonus of pissing off his mom was too good to pass up. So he kissed you, and pissed off his mom. He knew by the half lidded look you had given him, the way he could feel your heart pounding against him, that you had liked the kiss. He was a great kisser, after all.
So, why did you look at him with such disdainful eyes? You liked him, that much he was sure of, yet you seemed to abhor when he paid you any attention romantically. It made no sense to him. How could you like him, and hate him at the same time? It was plain as day how flustered you were, how you’d always protest in his hold, but never make any real move to distance yourself, how you always looked to him in a crowd, how you stood closer to him than you did anyone else in class, you liked him, he knew you liked him. So why? Why did you cry such angry tears when he was trying to give you everything you asked for.
Somewhere he knew deep down, that it was his fault. Somewhere along the way you decided that he couldn’t be trusted. That was why you gave him such a pitiful look. It was because you wanted more than anything for any of his flirting to be true, but you would never believe it was. He knew he should apologize, but he was bad at them. He hoped that if he gave you the weekend to cool down, everything would go back to normal. He could continue flirting with you, and you’d continue rejecting him like always. He could be okay with that. He could live with that, couldn’t he?
The next morning, you grabbed three random bags, and headed to your friend's cluster. Anne, Aliyah, and Wen. They regarded you with strange looks, as you burst in carrying two Dior and one Kate Spades bags into their living room, looking like a hot mess -not even bothering to change out of the golden dress, and holding Hermes purse, since it already had your wallet.
“Did you finally have a psychotic break?” Wen asks. Anne hands Aliyah a five dollar bill, indicating that somewhere along the way they had made a bet about you.
“Gojo is an ass.” You hold up a finger to halt their impending protests. “Before you ask, he bought these, and I have a shit ton more just lying in my room. So don’t feel bad.” You sigh, setting the bags on the table and collapsing onto one of the couches.
“What did he do wrong? I thought the two of you weren’t dating?” Anne asks.
“He kissed me!” You throw your hands into the air.
“How’s that a bad thing? You’ve wanted him to kiss you since freshman year,” Aliyah pipes in, inspecting one of the Dior bags.
“Because! He kissed me, then told me it was only to piss off his mom, ugh,” you groan, rubbing your hands over your eyes.
“Oh,” Wen pats your shoulder affectionately.
“Yeah oh, he’s been playing with me this whole time and I’m a fool because I knew that and I still fell for it.” You wouldn’t be lying when you said you wanted the world to swallow you up whole.
“Don’t feel bad babes, tons of people would have a hard time staying cold hearted if a man that gorgeous was doting on them.” Aliyah attempts to cheer you up.
“Yeah don’t feel bad, Gojo is like totally hot and really charming.” Wen pipes in. “It’s not your fault, he’s a pro at this.”
“Let’s forget him. He’s an ass anyway.” Anne smiles, grabbing her car keys from the wall. “Let’s get overpriced coffee and blast music.”
It worked. You were able to forget Gojo, at least for the weekend. But when Monday rolled around, you couldn’t avoid him forever. To your absolute detriment, (you had arrived just as the class starts in hopes that you could avoid sitting next to Gojo), the only seat visibly open was the one right at the front. It was right between Gojo and his best friend Geto.
“Fuck me,” you groan, setting your notes for class on the table.
“Happily if you decide you’re done with the tomcat,” Geto snickers next to you. Gojo gasps, grabbing the bottom of your seat and dragging it closer to his own. Closer so that it would be so delightfully easy to wrap you into his arms. Which he does.
“You can’t steal my girl that’s bad form,” he sticks his tongue out at Geto who sticks his tongue out right back.
“That would imply that I’m your girl Gojo, and I’m not,” you elbow him in the ribs, struggling harder than you’ve done in the past to break free from his hold. “And to reply to you Geto, never in a million years if this is the company you keep.” There’s venom in your voice, Gojo heard it, Geto heard it.
He lets you go, watching as you scoot your chair back to the middle, maybe just a tad closer to Geto than Gojo, and promptly ignore the two of them. There was no blush on your cheeks, no hidden smiles.
‘You fucked up,’ Geto mouths to him, across from you.
‘I’m fixing it,’ he mouths back, flipping his friend off. He was fixing it, or at least he was going to try.
Lunch rolled around. You had done your best to ignore Gojo all through class, and nearly ran from the room the second class was over. You entered the cafeteria only to find Gojo’s eyes immediately trained upon yours. He perks up, moving to stand and bickering with Shoko who’s turned around and trained her eyes on you as well. Okay so no lunch today. It didn’t bother you too much, this wouldn’t be the first nor last meal skipped. You exit the cafeteria with haste, heading instead to the student activities office where you could hide. That was mostly a success until he caught you trying to study later in one of the several nooks across campus later that afternoon.
He beams at you as he jogs over. You quickly as you can try to shove everything on the desk into your backpack, but it’s too late. He descends upon you like the morning sun, shoveling you into the booth as he moves to sit next to you.
“Gojo, can’t you see I’m trying to ignore you,” you glare.
“Oh no I can see you’re trying to ignore me, that’s exactly why I’m here,” he tells you with a grin, rifling around in his own backpack.
“Oh perfect, what an excellent plan,” you roll your eyes, debating on whether you should climb over or under the table to escape.
“That’s what I thought!” He exclaims excitedly, before pausing. “You’re not being sarcastic are you?” You give him a pointed look. He relents, finally finding whatever it was in his backpack.
“I brought you a sandwich because you ran away from me at lunch.” He pulls the sandwich out. It was your favorite. It’s followed by a bag of gummy bears, a bag of pink marshmallows in the shape of hearts, a couple zebra cakes, and a handful of jolly ranchers.
“Thank you but I’m not-“ you were going to say you’re not hungry, but as you say it your stomach rumbles loudly. Gojo looks at you, a self satisfied smirk on his face.
“What was that?” He asks.
“Shut up and eat your candy,” you grab the sandwich secretly happy to have something to eat.
“Okay,” he grins at you, a wicked and contagious grin. God he was so gorgeous it was unfair. You try your hardest to not smile back, to ignore the way your heart fluttered when he smiled at you, to forget the way he kissed you, the feeling of earth that blossomed all over your chest.
He pops a marshmallow in his mouth, chewing rather loudly -on purpose- you assumed. You roll your eyes doing your best to ignore him. What would you even say? That you were mad at him? That you weren’t going to the dance? That you hadn’t even opened the rest of the gifts you’d dumped in your room.
You ate in silence. Gojo started talking about some pastry store in Paris that had the most delectable marshmallow cream puffs, you mostly tried to tune him out, but it was hard. You kept thinking of your kiss, how warm his hands felt on your thigh, how soft his lips were, how he tasted like the chocolate covered strawberries he was feasting on earlier that night. With him acting so normal so non-flirtatiously it was hard to remember how mad you were.
You hear the loud ‘mwah’ before you feel his lips pressed against your cheek. Even though you despise it, your cheeks still grow red. You try to play it off.
“Don’t kiss me.” You turn to glare at him, but turn away just as quickly. He was looking at you with rapture, the bright blues of his eyes piercing through your very soul, as if he could see through you. The small satisfied smile on his face.
“I had to do something to get your attention out of your thoughts,” he tells you laughing. You open your mouth to protest his methods but as you do he presses a marshmallow between your lips. You nearly choke on the sweet before glaring at the offender. You chew, begrudgingly, glaring into his eyes. He looks at you pleased. You open your mouth again, clearly having learned nothing from the first time, and he places the zebra cake against your lips. You refuse to open your mouth further, locked in a silent battle, until he adds more pressure, beginning to crumble the cake against your face, smearing frosting against your lips. You swat his hand away annoyed, before as gracefully as you can manage after getting a cake smeared in your face, eating the damn pastry.
“Good I was worried you were gonna starve yourself in pursuit of avoiding me. Can’t have your ass getting flat, and your boo-“ Gojo begins before you cut him off with a slap to his arm.
“Could you bring your mind from the gutter for one minute? I was almost beginning to enjoy your company,” you chastise. That has him shutting up quickly as he locks his lips with an imaginary key for good measure. “Now leave, I'm trying to study.” And despite all odds he actually listens, packing up his candies and leaving the second zebra cake in case you were still hungry.
The rest of the week goes something like that. You try your best to avoid Gojo, and maintain your anger. He finds you, and makes it really difficult to even imagine that you could’ve been so mad just days before. You wouldn’t say that he wasn’t annoying or pushy, but he seemed to have a sixth sense of what lines to cross, and which to stay behind. Was he touchy? Yes, but they were mostly friendly, aside from the occasional kiss on the cheek, or the forehead or the hand. It was hard to stay mad, when he looked at you like the universe was unfolding in your eyes. You had never seen him with such an expression, not with any of his previous lovers, not even with Geto. It was flattering, it was intoxicating, it was down right addicting, and that was bad for your health. It was bad how high he lifted you, boosted your ego at every opportunity, while somehow keeping it light and teasing.
If you were screwed before, you were definitely screwed now. You were holding your own, at least in front of him. At night, his sunglasses that sat on your desk, the ones you kept forgetting to grab to return, taunted you. Your dreamers were haunted by a blue eyed white haired ghost. It was utterly infuriating, but you were managing. Keeping him at a friendly distance. It wasn’t until Sunday night, that your resolve finally broke.
“Come on girl, it’ll be fun and help you get over Gojo. He’s sticking around like a bad cold, and that’s not good for you,” Aliyah begs you, already dressed to the nines in clubbing attire.
“On Sunday night? I don’t think so,” you smile at her, amused but confident in your decision. Wen was rifling through your, still unopened bags, doing a poor job of masking her excitement and shock. She wasn’t the one you needed to worry about though. It was Anne, because she had the look in her eye. The look that you knew was going to destroy your whole plan.
“You promised me on my birthday when you ditched us to study for that exam, that I could have one free pass, as long as you didn’t have an exam the next day. And news flash you don’t have an exam Monday. You have to go!” She was looking at you with pleading eyes.
“Besides, you have the perfect outfit right here!” Wen pulls out a sexy silky black dress. It looked short, and skin tight, and very expensive.
“I don’t know guys.” You try to plead your case.
So it wasn’t technically your doing, you liked a good party every now and again, but you weren’t feeling it tonight. The glaring lights, the loud reverberating music, the stench of alcohol and the smoky haze all seemed more headache inducing than fun. You friends were well on their way to becoming tipsy. You had had a drink or two, and were starting to feel the effects. Not enough to get you in the mood, but just enough that it was hard to emotionally regulate.
You were trying to have fun, you really were. You were dressed up, all hot and sexy, in the expensive little black dress. One that Gojo had bought. You were kinda miffed at how good you looked in it. Yet despite all that, you weren’t having a good time. You were annoyed and grumpy. It seemed like the more you wanted to have fun, the more upset you were. You wanted to be having a good time like Wen who was making out with a smokin hot woman at the bar, or Aliyah who was dancing and grinding with strangers on the dance floor. Anne was doing her best to get you in the mood, pointing off your potential suitors and fending off her own. You could tell though that your bad mood was dragging her own fun down. As much as you thought it might be fun to flirt with random strangers and grind the night away, you just weren’t feeling it. They didn’t fit your standards, everyone seemed lecherous and greasy and foolish. Since you weren’t feeling it, you weren’t feeling confident, and the lack of confidence led to an increased lack of interest in you. Something that stung considering it rubbed salt in the wound of you believing Gojo was only messing around. If you weren’t pulling more than 5/10 how was the 10/10 even remotely attracted to you. The revolution only soured your mood more.
Eventually you decide not to waste anymore of Anne’s time citing that you were gonna call and Uber and head home. You promised you’d be safe, and text her the car plate and when you get back. With that you were off, weaving your way through the club, looking back to see Anne joining a rowdy and eccentricity dressed group of individuals on the dance floor, smiling and laughing with the biggest grin on her face. You were happy she was enjoying herself now, and happy that you were leaving instead of bringing the whole mood down.
By the time you make it out of the club you’re more than ready to be back in bed. Instead you were standing in the pouring rain, trying to order an Uber while the cars kept canceling. It was more than frustrating, you were just about ready to say fuck it and cry while walking back home.
For the last 45 minutes Gojo had been sitting in his car, outside of the club, willing himself to go inside. Usually it was completely his scene, plenty of people to flirt with, plenty of alcohol, and zero responsibilities. The whole reason he had decided to go out in the first place was to convince himself that whatever infatuation he had with you, that it was just that. Over the week he had begun to realize that whatever crush he had on you was starting to get really serious, a little too serious if you asked him. If he thought he was panicking before, he was certainly freaking out now.
So he was going to get wasted, flirt with people, and have a one night stand. He was desperately trying to convince himself that the feelings he held for you weren’t real feelings and that you were just filling the gap like so many had before you. So he was going to go drinking and clubbing without worrying about what you were doing knowing that his actions could and would hurt you. It was a genius plan by all accounts, and after banging some hot chic he’d certainly realize how little you actually mattered.
It was going to work, his plan was destined to work. Except- he couldn’t get himself to actually go into the club. Every time he thought about leaving the car he’d get such an intense bout of nausea he thought he was dying. The pain he felt in his chest had him googling heart attack symptoms with the ambulance on speed dial. Maybe he ate something bad, or he was coming down with some strange cold. It didn’t strike him til about the 35 minute mark that what he was feeling was guilt for treating you thoughtlessly. Even considering going out and flirting with anyone other than you was gut wrenching.
If that revelation wasn’t bad enough, it had started to rain. It was absolutely pouring, enough that it was starting to get hard to see out of his windshield. He was just about to leave when he sees you exit the club, looking worse for wear standing in the rain. He watches you for a moment, apprehensively, as if you were a figment of his imagination, a hallucination brought on by his realization of how deep his feelings for you ran. Especially because you were in the little black dress he had bought, especially because even with your hair in sopping ringlets around your face you looked more beautiful than any model he had ever seen.
After about ten minutes of you standing in the rain, he sees you turn and begin walking toward campus. It’s like something in him snapped, and before he’s thinking properly (about how he could’ve driven to you, or grabbed the umbrella under his back seat) he’s out of his car and running toward you in the rain.
At first you think Gojo’s voice is a hallucination in your brain. After feeling practically unfuckable, bringing the whole mood of the party down, and getting drenched in water while the immediate area became a Uber desert he was there to taunt you. Except he wasn’t. He was real, wearing a really wet white button down with white pants, running toward you in the rain. You can barely make out his car behind him, the headlights refracting through the rain. An angel. He looks like an angel, the light casting a brilliant halo behind him, his eyes piercing even in the rain, porcelain skin dewey and bright. Oh, oh, you could fall just like that. When he reaches you, he towers of your form, eyes searching and scanning, noticing every twitch of your hand, every flutter of every eyelash, how the water cascaded around your body. He was looking at you like you were art, like he was enraptured with your entire being, every angle, every side, every emotion, each hidden meaning and knowing glance. And maybe it was the shitty day, or the rain, or the week, or everything that you were going through, maybe it was the club, or how he looked at you, but you threw yourself into his arms.
